


Broken Promises

by Sage8771



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheating, Depression, Drama, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Partner Betrayal, Rebuilding, References to Depression, Relationship(s), Romance, Sex, Therapy, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-21 22:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30029031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sage8771/pseuds/Sage8771
Summary: He was supposed to be her knight in shining armor. He was supposed to be the one that would never hurt her. But he was never who she thought he was, and after having her heart broken by Negan, Bianca forces herself to move on from him. A life tainted with depression, she learns to cope with the realization that he wasn't the catalyst for her happiness. In discovering her inner strength, she begins to heal, but will she ever truly be over him?
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 14





	1. Take This Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [witchofhell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofhell/gifts).



> This is a special work for Witchofhell. She requested this specific scenario, so I hope that I do it justice. As this is not an original plot of mine, please bear with me as I work through it. All mistakes are mine, obviously, and I hope that you enjoy!

The bouquets were stunningly beautiful. Pale pink dew drop roses and white buds, interspersed with fresh greenery. They were tied with hand-stitched lace, giving it a ‘fresh from the garden’ vibe.   


Every bridesmaid's dress flattered the wearer, and the weather was picture-perfect, down to the heart-shaped cloud that floated lazily above the trellis, adorned with ivy.  


None of it mattered to the bride, who was wailing inconsolably in the corner of the country club dressing room, with hands fluttering all around her.  


Bianca bit back a sigh of exasperation, rummaging through her ‘any sort of catastrophe’ bag, finally closing her fingers around the Tide to-go pen, and pushing her way past the helpless maid of honor, clasping Crystal’s hand to get her attention.  


“Sweetie, it’s okay,” she hummed in a soothing tone, trying to lower the collective tension by about a thousand degrees. “We’ve got it all under control.”  


“It’s ruined,” Crystal sobbed, gesturing to the barely noticeable smudge of lipstick on the bodice of the dress. “The whole day is ruined.”  


“Nonsense,” Bianca smiled, squeezing her hand. “You know I come more prepared than a Boy Scout, now let’s just pop into the restroom and I’ll make this spot disappear.”  


Giving her no room to argue, she led the hysterical bride to be into the brightly lit abode, setting to work on the minuscule stain. When Crystal had lifted her skirt to step into her shoes, she’d accidentally brushed the silky fabric up against her lips, creating a tiny little kiss print. One wouldn’t notice it unless it was pointed out, but Crystal knew it was there and that was all that mattered.  


Bianca scrubbed at the spot until it disappeared, and Crystal threw her arms around her neck, thanking her. Everything was right in the bride’s world again, and she hustled out to let one of the groomsmen know that the wedding could proceed.  


If she ever got married, she was just going to go down to the courthouse and get hitched. Weddings were just too much stress. There were way too many things that could go wrong, and you spent the entire day either worrying or trying to please everyone, from parents to guests. Nothing about them seemed fun for the person that it actually mattered to.  


“This is an open bar, right?” Jennifer muttered behind her as they waited for the wedding march to begin, and Bianca stifled a snort. “I’m never doing this again unless I get paid.”  


Really, it had been an ordeal, but Crystal was one of their good friends, and she was normally a really laid-back person, but none of the bridesmaids would shed a tear when she was finally married and they'd be freed from their duties. Hell, even Negan, Bianca’s boyfriend had noticed how unhinged Crystal had been over the last few months, and he was normally oblivious to stuff like that.   


“I can’t wait to get you all to myself again,” he’d complained after the fourth consecutive night that she’d been gone, redoing the centerpieces because Crystal thought they were too ‘fluffy’. Funnily enough, Crystal was the one that introduced them to each other.  


She and Negan were both teachers, and when he’d been hired at Crystal’s school a couple of years ago, she’d immediately tried to get Bianca to come to one of the staff social hours that happened on Fridays.   


“He’s gorgeous, B,” she’d said, more than once. “He’d be perfect for you.”  


“Crystal, you know I’m not looking right now,” she’d replied for the hundredth time. Crystal seemed to have made it her mission in life to get Bianca back into the dating pool after she split with her fiancée Eddie. “I’m enjoying being single.”  


“But he’s just your type,” she pressed, giving her doe eyes. “Tall, dark, and handsome.”  


“Been there, done that,” Bianca shook her head. It wasn’t until three months later that she finally agreed to go to one of the after-work hangouts just to shut Crystal up.   


It definitely wasn’t love at first sight. Bianca had found Negan to be loud, boorish, and entirely too enamored of himself. Though he was one of the most strikingly handsome men she’d ever seen, Negan knew it, and it had been a major turn-off. He’d strutted around like he was cock of the walk, and women damned near fainted in his wake.   


Except for Bianca. He reminded her too much of Eddie, and she was done settling for someone who valued themselves over everyone else. After he’d made his rounds through the crowd, he edged his way next to her at the bar, draping himself over the side, and she gave him an unimpressed glance.   


“What’s your name, beautiful?” he’d asked, turning on a megawatt smile.  


“Bianca.”  


“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”  


“Thanks,” she swiveled her chair in the opposite direction, moving the straw of her drink in a lazy circle. Undaunted, he came around the back of her seat, planting himself right in her eyeline.   


“I’m Negan,” he stuck out his hand, and she shook it once, turning herself so that she was facing the bar, hoping he’d get the hint. “Can I buy you a drink?”  


“I’ve got one, thanks.”  


“Ouch,” he laughed, placing his hand over his chest. “The temperature’s dropped about twenty degrees in here.”  


“Listen,” she sighed, picking up her straw and sucking out the remnants of soda that were clinging to the bottom. His eyes followed every movement of her lips, and she placed the straw down on the bar. “You might as well give up, Negan. I’m not interested.”  


“In a drink?”  


“In you,” Bianca clarified. “You’re not my type, okay?”  


“I can be any type of guy you like, darlin’.”  


“Give me a break,” she scoffed, hopping down from the barstool. “Swing and a miss, jackass. Why don’t you try that blonde over there,” she pointed to a busty girl that was eyeing him with ‘fuck me’ eyes. “She looks like a sure thing. You’re wasting your time. I’m not into hookups.”  


She left him standing there with a frozen smile and wide eyes, weaving her way through a small group of men and women, tugging on Crystal’s elbow to get her attention.   


“Your radar is way off,” she mumbled into Crystal’s ear. “I’m heading out.”  


“Oh, don’t go,” she tried to grasp Bianca’s arm, but she pulled herself free. “He’s really sweet, I swear.”  


“Crystal, he’s a pig. All he’s looking for is an easy screw.”  


“He needs a nice girl,” she argued, dragging Bianca off to the side of the room where it was quieter. “I’ve really gotten to know him, B.”  


“That may be true,” she allowed, “but it’s not going to be me. Not after what I just went through.”  


Crystal knew when she was fighting a losing battle, and she nodded once, giving Bianca’s arm a reassuring squeeze. She knew her friend was coming out of a depression that had brought her to her knees, and even though she still thought that Negan and Bianca would be perfect for each other, she wasn’t going to push it.  


“All right,” Crystal sighed. “At least let me walk you out.”  


“No, stay and hang out. I’m just parked down the street.”  


The decision to walk out alone changed her life forever, and as she started down the aisle, Negan caught her eye, a tender smile on his face meant just for her. He was sitting in the second row in the seat closest to the aisle, and as she passed, he lightly brushed her wrist, sending a wave of love through her entire body.   


He was dressed in a black suit, and she selfishly thought that he outshone the groom, Jon. In fact, it felt almost cruel to know how effortlessly handsome he was compared to Crystal’s almost-husband. Jon was by no means unattractive, but he just didn’t have that certain something that Bianca hadn’t picked up on right away in Negan.   


Looking back on the night they met, she’d simply figured him to be a run-of-the-mill playboy, someone who was good for a fun night in the sack and nothing else. And he was _very_ good between the sheets. But he was also romantic and caring in a way that one couldn’t quite comprehend just by looking at him. Most people, Bianca included at first, would assume that he’d have to do little more than flash that gorgeous smile to get what he wanted. And he probably didn’t need to. But over the course of their relationship, Negan had done things for her that no other man she’d been with had.  


When he could sense that she’d had a rough day at work, he’d be waiting in the parking garage at the hospital for her, just to give her a kiss and to bring her a bouquet of flowers. He had the uncanny talent of knowing what she needed, possibly even better than she did.  


Her mother’s death six months before had shaken her to her core. Bianca had spent all of her life waiting for it with a sense of dread, and when she’d finally succeeded in taking her own life, it had knocked her into her own depression that could’ve sent her down the same path.   


Her family history with depression wasn’t unknown to her. She’d grown up watching her mom struggle with the ebbs and flows of it. When she was happy, it was like the sun shining on you and only you, but when she wasn’t, it was like living in a pitch-black cave that you couldn’t find your way out of.   


Bianca’s dad had tried his best to be both mother and father to her. To help her mom through the low points. But it had slowly sucked the life out of him, and when she turned seventeen, he left.   


“I can’t do it anymore, baby,” he’d told her as he packed up a single suitcase. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t. If I had known…”  


Bianca never bothered to respond to him, watching with a blank face as he walked out the door for the last time. Tony Cicero had spent the best years of his life caring for a woman that had sapped him of what little vitality he’d had, and he just plain couldn’t give her another drop of it. In a way, she couldn’t blame him, but another part of her resented the hell out of him, and would for the rest of her days.  


She didn’t ask to be born. She never asked to have a mother that couldn’t find her way out of the cloud that she always lived under. And she sure as hell didn’t ask for a father that left her to flounder under it, too.  


Angelica Cicero finally lost her battle at the age of fifty-one, overdosing on pain pills that she’d bought off the street. It was as raw to Bianca as if someone had walked into her house and shot her point-blank, even though in the darkest recesses of her mind, she’d waited to get the call for years that her mother was gone.   


Negan had been there for her every step of the way, from making the funeral arrangements to cleaning out her mom’s apartment. And when Bianca couldn’t leave her bed for two weeks, unable to summon the energy to even feed herself, he did that, too.  


Truly, she couldn’t imagine loving anyone as much as she loved him. He wasn’t responsible for her happiness, but he brought her back from the brink when she couldn’t do it herself.   


* * *

Jennifer poked her in the back, breaking her out of the stupor that she’d gone into, staring mindlessly out at the crowd as Crystal and Jon said their vows. She’d gotten so far into her head that she’d missed half of the ceremony, and as she glanced over to see Negan looking worried, she gave him a quick wink to assure him that she was fine. She didn’t want him to think there was anything wrong.  


The rest of the ceremony went off without any mental lapses on her end, and Bianca made a beeline straight for Negan as soon as she was set free after the pictures. He was accompanying her to the reception since the wedding party was eating first.   


Kissing his cheek, she slid her arms underneath his jacket, wrapping herself around his waist. He was freshly shaved, even though she like his stubble, and he massaged her lower back as they waited for the doors to the hall to open.  


“Everything okay, honeybee?”  


“I’m starving,” she avoided what he was really asking, and he didn’t press the issue. She’d tell him if there was something upsetting her. God knows, she didn’t keep anything bottled up inside, not after her mother. “Are we having the chicken or the fish?”  


“I put you down for the fish, and me for the chicken,” he teased her, because he knew she hated seafood. Bianca goosed him since his back was up against the wall, and he nibbled on her lower lip in response. “You’re tastier than anything they could serve us, beautiful.”  


“Every time you call me beautiful, I think of the night we met,” she laughed, though he wasn’t as amused, for several reasons, not the least of which was the creep that had followed her out of the bar, without her noticing. “Who I thought you were, and who you ended up being are polar opposites.”  


Negan’s dimples deepened, and he grimaced at the state he was in a few years ago, she assumed. He’d lost his wife, and even to this day, he admitted that he’d been on a destructive path after her death. Her impression of him wasn’t off the mark, but it was just of a snapshot in time, and Bianca lightly smoothed the crease between his eyebrows. He seemed to look back on that stage of his life with shame, but she didn’t.   


“I love you,” she smiled, resting her chin on his sternum as she stared up at him. “I love you exactly as you are.”  


“I love you more than you’ll ever understand,” the fact that he looked like he was ready to cry made her stomach somersault, but she quashed the uneasy feeling back down, telling herself that he was just reminiscing about his own marriage. It didn’t explain the other times he’d been upset over the last few weeks, and her subconscious was needling that little spot in the back of her head, trying to get her to take it more seriously.  


The doors swung open, and they were swept up into the hall with the rest of the wedding party, forcing her own thoughts to the back burner. It helped that Negan seemed to brush off whatever was eating at him, and he went back to being his normal, gregarious self.   


Dinner went off without a hitch, and as soon as the guests began to filter in, Negan left her with a kiss to join his school buddies at the bar, holding court. Bianca found herself fetching drinks for Crystal as she stood in the reception line, annoyed that the maid of honor, Kylie, was more interested in the best man than attending to the bride. It was her job to support her cousin, but good old reliable Bianca was there to pick up the slack, even going so far as to help her with her dress in the bathroom.   


Her punishment for being such a standup friend was to be forced onto the dancefloor for the tossing of the bouquet, even though she’d tried to sneak off to avoid it. It felt so juvenile, something young, single girls would do, and since she was in a long-term relationship, she feared she’d reek of desperation, looking to trap Negan into a permanent commitment.   


They’d never discussed getting married, and though she knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, Bianca wasn’t sure she ever wanted to make it official. Maybe she was gun-shy after dealing with her mom and dad, and Eddie’s betrayal. Or maybe she just didn’t want to put pressure on a man that felt like he’d failed in his own marriage.   


Either way, when she caught the bouquet without even trying, (it glanced off of Jennifer’s fingers and bounced right into her chest, landing on her hands) she pasted a pained smile on her face and walked off the opposite side to where Negan was. Thankfully, he was still at the bar, doing a shot with one of the math teachers, and she discreetly dropped the bouquet on her seat, covering it up with Negan’s jacket.   


Unlike with her, no one pressured him to go out when Jon took off the garter, shooting it behind him, where it landed right in the hands of his brother, Troy. Bianca decided to eschew the tradition of dancing with him, begging off with a laugh.   


Troy wasn’t offended, instead asking Jennifer, who damned near dragged him out onto the floor. She’d been eyeing the guy for the last few weeks of rehearsal, and Bianca watched them with a smile, jerking when someone suddenly lifted her off her feet.  


“What the hell?” she swung her arm, hitting Negan right in the shoulder. He was three sheets to the wind, breathing firewater breath right in her face as she smacked him one more time for scaring her. Undaunted, he tugged on her hand, pulling her onto the dancefloor with the other couples, and she shook her head, wondering how she was going to get him into bed. He was almost too big to maneuver, but he managed to stay upright as they moved in a slow circle, avoiding the other dancers.  


Negan hummed along with the song into her ear, off-key, and she absently played with the hair on the nape of his neck while they turned. “You’re a good woman,” he mumbled, brushing his lips along the outer shell of her ear, making goosebumps rise along her skin. “Such a good woman.”  


That overwhelming feeling returned, a nonspecific fear that he was trying to tell her something, something that she didn’t want to know, and she leaned back to see that his eyes were glassy.   


“Tell me what’s wrong,” she whispered, ready to vomit when his breath hitched in his throat. “Negan, talk to me. You can tell me anything.”  


“Baby, I….” he swayed forward, his head dropping, and Bianca let go of his hands to steady him, holding him upright. “I think we need to go,” he finally said. “I’m drunk.”  


“Okay.”  


Rounding up their things, she placed her arm around his waist, guiding him in a messy line towards the door as they said their goodbyes, and when she got him outside, she propped him up against the building, hustling to their car as she felt the urge to just shake him like a piggy bank to get him to tell her what was wrong.   


Something had been eating at him over the past few weeks. Were there problems at school? More than once he’d been reprimanded for swearing in front of his students, though she doubted that there’d be severe repercussions. The principal was a huge fan of his, and he was able to sweet-talk his way out of almost anything.   


She’d been a good place for a while, making her way through the funk of her mom’s passing, so it couldn’t be about her. Bianca’s doctor had started her on a new medication that seemed to be working on stabilizing her, but maybe he was worried that she’d hit another low point or something.   


Whatever it was, they could handle it together if he’d just open up and talk to her. With an assist from one of the club employees, she managed to get him into the passenger’s seat and his belt buckled. As she drove to their condo in the dark, she opened the window on Negan’s side, hoping that the fresh air would keep him awake, but he was sound asleep by the time she pulled into their drive.  


Getting him out of the car was an experience that she didn’t care to repeat, and she twisted her ankle leading him around the walkway to the front door. Bianca swore a blue streak trying to get the door unlocked, and they basically fell through it, careening into the opposite wall. The force of the impact shook the side table, and her arm glanced off of the vase, knocking it to the floor with a crash.  


“Fuck,” she muttered, bypassing the mess to get Negan to the bedroom, and she forcefully pushed him towards the mattress, where he fell down face first, spread across it diagonally. Pulling his shoes off, she tossed them towards the closet, doubling back to sweep up the broken glass, tossing it into the wastebasket.   


It was barely eleven o’clock, but she had to be at the hospital for a shift at seven, so she washed her face and got into her nightshirt, dragging Negan to one half of the bed so she could climb in. He was babbling in his sleep, so she thought, but the few words she was able to understand sent a chill straight through her.  


“So sorry….make it up….didn’t mean anything,” he mumbled, turning his head. “Only love you, honeybee…”  


_This was bad_ , her heart told her. _Very, very bad, and it wasn't about tonight._


	2. Breaking the Girl

Bianca finished printing up Elvin Stubb’s discharge instructions, making a few more notes in his chart before heading back to room 12 to wake her frequent flier. He was still passed out in the bed, snoring like his life depended on it.  


“Time to go, Mr. Stubb,” she said, running her knuckles over his sternum to wake him. He roused from his drunken stupor, swinging his right arm like he always did, and she blocked it, taking a step back when he shot upright.   


“I’ll kill ya,” he swore, looking from left to right until he found her face, going blank.   


“Not tonight, Mr. Stubb,” she said. “Not when I’m five minutes from clocking out. I called you a cab to get you home.”  


Jake was working security, and he helped her get him into a wheelchair and load him into the cab. After he was on his way, Bianca headed back inside to finish her charting and hand off her patients to Emily, her replacement. It had been unusually busy for a Sunday, though since it had been a gorgeous day, more people were out and about.  


“Seven is waiting for an ultrasound to rule out a miscarriage,” she told Emily, who took notes in a bright pink notepad. “Five is waiting on plastic to come done and evaluate the damage to his right hand from getting it caught in the mower.”  


Emily winced but nodded, and she continued on, updating her on all the patients she’d be responsible for. By the time they did the med count and she was able to leave the floor and grab her stuff, it was almost midnight, and she traded niceties with Jake as he escorted her to her car. Once she was inside, she locked the doors and took her hair out of her ponytail, taking a well-earned deep breath.   


No two days were ever the same in the emergency room, and that’s what she loved about it. Some of them were so bad that you ended up turning off your emotions, becoming a machine in order to get through it without breaking down, and others were actually fun in a way. You had to have a strong stomach and a sick sense of humor in medicine, and luckily, she had both.   


Because it had been non-stop for sixteen hours, she hadn’t had any time to worry about what was going on with Negan, but as she drove home, it left her plenty of time to wonder just what was upsetting him. They’d worked hard on not keeping secrets from each other, so she always assumed he would trust her with any struggle he was going through. She wanted him to feel safe enough to depend on her the way that she did him.  


When she pulled into their garage, she cut the engine, dragging herself out on aching legs that reminded her that she’d gone non-stop all day. The house was dark when she got inside, and she was a little disappointed that Negan wasn’t waiting up for her like he usually did.   


_He’s got work in the morning,_ she told herself as she moved through the silent condo. _You can talk it out tomorrow._  


Even though he was a really sound sleeper, Bianca showered in the guest bathroom, tiptoeing her way into their room when she was done, clad in a towel. He’d turned on the white noise machine, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore muffled her movements. After slipping on a pair of panties and a nightgown, she gingerly crawled under the covers, stiffening when she felt his fingers brush against her thigh.  


“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”  


“I can’t really fall asleep until I know you’re home safe,” he mumbled, pulling her closer so that she was flush with his chest. “I worry when you work late.”  


The tightness that had been in her chest during her shower loosened as he inhaled her wet hair, and she draped her arm across his waist, finding her favorite spot under his chin. She was reading too much into things, she rationalized to herself. Looking for something that wasn’t there because that’s how she was wired. It was her nature as a pessimist.   


Negan rubbed her back, and she gradually drifted off to the soothing action and the sound of the waves, spending most of her sleep in a blank nothing. By the time she woke the next morning, Negan was already gone, and as she curled up on his side of the bed, inhaling his pillow for his scent, her fingers brushed a piece of paper.   


Forcing her eyes open, she held the note up to her nose to read his chicken scratch. He’d scrawled a request for her to be dressed to kill when he got home with a promise to take her out to eat.   


_See? You’re worrying for nothing_ , she told herself, stretching lazily as she turned to her side to try to go back to sleep. Her brain was already too awake, and she finally got up, running her hands through her hair as she walked into the kitchen.   


Popping in a pod of vanilla roast, she twisted her back, cracking it as she noticed that he’d left his phone on the counter. Negan had a real bad habit of forgetting his cellphone, and they’d already had to replace two that he’d lost this year, one of which he’d set on top of his car and driven away at the gas station.  


Shaking her head, Bianca carried her mug of coffee to the living room, sitting cross-legged on the couch. She turned on the television, watching the morning news show as she sipped on her drink. Her computer was sitting on the table, and she clicked on Facebook, smiling when a picture from Crystal was the first thing to come up. She’d already uploaded a few snapshots from her honeymoon in St. Thomas, and Bianca liked all three of them, typing out a ‘congratulations’ and some hearts.   


Negan’s phone buzzed behind her on the counter, and she ignored it as she scrolled through her feed, stopping on Jen’s picture of the two of them at the reception. Jen had tagged her in it, and there were at least forty likes on it, even though she thought she looked like hell.  


‘Why did you tag me?’ she posted, adding a laughing emoji on the end of it. Jen knew she hated to be photobombed, and she logged off with a groan before she could find any more unflattering photos from the wedding.  


Negan’s phone buzzed at least four more times as she lay on the couch, flipping through the channels, and curiosity finally won out as she walked back into the kitchen to investigate. Maybe it was him trying to alert her that he’d realized that he left it, and she picked it up, her heart dropping to her feet to see that all five messages were from the same unknown number.  


He had a right to his privacy, and she never made a habit of snooping on his phone, preferring to trust him, but something in her gut told her to open it. His passcode was prosaic, a simple ‘1234’, and with shaking hands, she clicked on the text bubble, letting out a cry of anguish when she read the messages.  


**-Negan, call me.**   


**-Negan, you don’t get to decide it’s over without even talking to me. This is bullshit. I deserve better than this!**   


**-Call me, or I’ll tell your girlfriend everything!**   


**-If you don’t call me, I swear to god you’ll regret it.**   


**-Negan, I’m serious. Don’t think I won’t tell her about us.**

She’d barely read the last message when the phone started ringing in her hand, a call from the same number, and in a daze she pressed the green button, holding it to her ear. Bianca never even had a chance to say a word when the woman on the other end of the line started ranting.  


“You have no right to blow me off,” the unnamed woman screeched in her ear as she felt her cheeks getting wet with tears. “You can’t just tell me we’re through-“  


“Who is this?” she managed to ask in a fading voice, and the other woman paused, hanging up in her ear. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. She had to be dreaming as she stared at the screen in shock. Of all the things she thought could be happening, him cheating on her with another woman was at the bottom of the list.  


He _knew_ that she’d barely survived Eddie’s affair. He _knew_ it was the one thing she couldn’t get past, and he’d done it anyway. He was a liar and a cheat, and she dropped his phone, sprinting to the bathroom to throw up, so sick that she thought she might drop dead on the spot. The man she loved was nothing more than a lying, cheating sack of shit. Just like Eddie.   


All of the blood rushed to her head, and she knelt next to the toilet, bawling like a child and unable to stop as the words cycled through her head on a loop. Negan cheated on her. He cheated and he lied. He'd had an affair, right under her nose.  


There was no way to come back from this. Not again. Bianca curled up on the floor, clutching her head as she contemplated just ceasing to exist. She wasn’t built for this world. There was too much pain in it for her, and she willed her own heart to just stop beating so she wouldn’t have to end it herself.  


She had no idea how much time had passed, but her hip was aching when she sat up, feeling like she was going to pass out. Her survival instinct was delayed, but it was finally kicking in, telling her to get up, get her shit, and get the hell out of there.   


_Get away. Get away now before he comes home. Just walk away and never look back._  


Frantically, she brushed her teeth, sweeping all of her toiletries and pills into her arms and dumping them on the bed. Their suitcases were on a shelf in the garage, and she ran into the doorjamb on her way out to get them, barely even registering the pain. Nothing could touch the agony she was feeling inside, and she jumped up, grabbing them on the first try.   


Setting them on the unmade bed, she moved like a tornado, tossing in whatever clothes she could grab, leaving a pair of jeans and a shirt out to change into. Her shoes and boots went in the other, along with her hair dryer and other essentials. She could send for the rest later. Right now, it was more urgent to get away.  


She’d just zipped up the larger bag when she heard the door fly open, smacking against the wall, and she retreated to the corner, whimpering.   


“Bianca!”  


Negan came stumbling into the bedroom, sweating profusely and panting, screeching to a stop when he locked eyes with her. He was still in his gym clothes, and his whistle swung back and forth like a pendulum. The other woman must’ve called him.  


“I can explain,” he wheezed, taking a step towards her, and she erupted from her spot like a wounded animal that was cornered.   


“Get away from me!” she screamed, flailing her fists to keep him away from her. “Don’t touch me!”  


Negan dodged her arms, wrapping her in a bear hug and holding her as she struggled, sobbing and moaning until she ran out of energy, slumping through his arms to the floor. He dropped down beside her, crying as hard as she was, and she inched away from him, leaning against the wall as he covered his face with his hands.  


“I’m so sorry,” he said through his fingers. “I’m so sorry.”  


She couldn’t say a word. It was like her vocal cords had frozen, or been ripped out of her. All she could do was stare at him through tear-filled eyes, wondering if she’d ever known him at all. He was Eddie, right down to the fake regret.  


Negan stayed slumped over for several minutes, and when he finally looked her in the eye, he flinched back like she’d physically struck him. In all the years she’d known him, or thought she did, he’d never once cried. Hell, he’d never even come close to crying, but now the tears were falling down his face, like two rivers that had formed naturally. This was real. It wasn’t some cruel prank and it wasn’t a mistake.  


“I never meant for this to happen, you have to believe me.”   


It was like she became unglued, unstuck from the inertia he’d trapped her in, and she crawled around him, using the dresser to get to her feet.  


“I don’t have to do anything,” she croaked, taking off her nightgown and quickly pulling the shirt over her head. The jeans were a struggle to get up because she was shaking so badly, and Negan stared up at her, still crying. “I can’t believe how wrong I was, how wrong I always am. You’re exactly who I first thought you were.”  


“Please,” he begged, crawling towards her. “Please forgive me. I’ll make this up to you, I swear.”  


“You kissed another woman when you were supposed to be mine. You held someone else instead of me,” she went on, just thinking about it making her want to be sick all over again. “You had sex with someone while I was here, loving you. Oh, God.”  


His face went white almost immediately, and Bianca grabbed her suitcases, letting them hit the floor so she could drag them out of the room. She needed to leave.  


“It didn’t mean anything,” he tried to follow her, and she spun around, enraged, watching the words die in his throat.  


“Do you think that makes it better?” she screeched, wanting to tear her hair out. “That you hurt me for _nothing_? For someone that you don’t even care about?”  


He took two steps back, bracing himself along the wall as she continued to rage at him.   


“You’re worse than Eddie. At least he claimed to love the other woman. You’re deranged,” she backed away, dragging her things with her. “You’re nothing but a sick, miserable person, and I don’t ever want to see you again, do you understand me?”  


“No,” he pleaded as she got further away, closer to the door. “I’ll fix this. I can fix this.”  


“You’re so fucked up,” she stammered, nearly falling backward into the garage. “You’re messed up, so you tried to mess me up, too.”  


She couldn’t bear to look at him anymore, and the last image she would have of him was of a lying, cheating shit poor excuse of a man and partner. It was branded on her brain, never to be removed, and with an unending whimper, she managed to get her things into her car. Negan stood in the doorway of the garage, afraid to come closer, and Bianca snapped her nail trying to get the condo keys off of her keyring. When she finally got it free, she threw it at him, where hit his chest and clattered to the floor.  


“I’ll send for the rest of my things,” she hiccupped, opening her door. “I never want to lay eyes on you again.”  
  
“Please,” he begged, holding his arms out in front of him, reaching for her like she was just inches away instead of several feet. “Please don’t leave me.”  


“I can’t stand the sight of you,” she shuddered, opening the door to her car and locking herself inside. As soon as she was able to put the key in the ignition, she reversed out of the driveway, almost clipping his car as she flew into the street. He followed her, and she took off, the tires squealing and leaving marks on the asphalt. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters like this give me heartburn. I don't know why, but I could write about deaths all day long. Cheating, though? I feel nauseous. Poor Bianca :(


	3. Sink, then swim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: The characters discuss Bianca's mother's suicide. I don't want anyone to read if it upsets them. You can always go down to just before the break. In the future, I don't foresee any more conversations about it as we move through Bianca's recovery.

Sharon Powers pulled up her next patient’s file, making a few notes as she waited for her assistant to show her in. She didn’t like to favor anyone over others, but she had a soft spot in her heart for Bianca. Truth be told, she saw a lot of her sister in Bianca, and it brought out the urge to help her to a better path in her life.   


She’d been seeing the young woman for just over three months, and every visit brought a little more clarity into her struggles, and a little more hope, as well. It had taken several sessions to find a crack in Bianca’s carefully constructed walls, and Sharon worked hard to help her discover coping skills to deal with her pain, which came from many sources.   


The knock on her door signaled the start of her next session, and she closed her computer, picking up her notepad to work with. She greeted Bianca at the edge of the couch, heartened when he got a genuine smile in return.  


“I’m glad to see you,” Sharon told her, and she meant it. “Why don’t you have a seat?”  


Her office was done in soothing tans and blues, with pictures of the beach and an overstuffed leather couch, not to lie on, but to sit comfortably, and Bianca took her usual spot, closest to the door. Sharon sat in an adjacent matching chair, and they traded idle chitchat for the first few minutes.  


“So, how was your week?”  


Bianca crossed her legs, letting her right foot bob up and down as she stared over Sharon’s shoulder to the picture with the lighthouse. It was the one she focused on the most, and Sharon waited patiently as Bianca got her thoughts together.  


“It wasn’t too bad. I, uh, had a few triggers that I identified,” she said softly, letting her eyes unfocus.   


“It’s great that you recognized them.”  


“Yeah,” she murmured, still staring vacantly. She shook herself back into the now, and she played with her fingers, taking a deep breath. “We had an overdose come in when I worked nights on Monday. It was a man, but…”  


“Go on,” Sharon encouraged her after a moment.   


“He was fifty-one. The same age as my mom.”  


“That must have been hard for you.”  


“I had a little panic attack,” Bianca admitted, “just for a second, but I counted to ten, and I was able to push through it. I did my job, and we were able to stabilize him.”  


“What was your first thought when you made the connection to your mom?” Sharon prodded.  


“I don’t know.”  


Bianca always seemed to give and take in regards to her mom. It was one of the tougher subjects to make headway on. Her family history of depression stemmed from her mother’s side, and she was reticent to delve into the why’s and how’s.  


“And how did you feel after you were able to stabilize your patient?”  


“I felt,” Bianca took a deep breath, finally meeting her gaze, and Sharon inclined her head, “proud that I was able to do my job. I felt relief that he survived, and I felt guilty that I couldn’t save my mom.”  


“I imagine that felt a lot like being swept up into a tornado.”  


“Yeah,” she nodded her head. “I know, realistically, that there was nothing I could do for my mom, and in a way, it felt inevitable my whole damned life, but…”  


“It doesn’t change the shock and pain,” Sharon said. “Suicide isn’t a singular act. It doesn’t just take away the victim’s pain. It leaves more behind with the survivors. You have every right to feel angry, Bianca. You have every right to feel abandoned, and it’s okay to even feel relieved sometimes, thinking that she’s no longer suffering. There’s no right or wrong way to grieve.”  


Bianca pulled on a lock of hair, tugging three times as she tried not to cry, but Sharon wanted her to feel everything. Putting it on the back burner was going to cause her to erupt, and it would be so much more painful when she finally confronted the feeling of abandonment, not only from her mom’s death, but for her entire youth.  


“I’m angry,” she conceded. “I’m mad that she took what I feel like is the easy way out, and I’m…resentful that she saddled me with this,” waving her arms in every direction, and Sharon smiled sadly. A genetic predisposition to depression made it more likely, but it didn’t mean it couldn’t be managed. It was no different than a family history of diabetes, or heart disease. The invisible ailments were just a real as the visible ones.  


Sharon took note of how Bianca framed it as a feeling, rather than a statement. She’d stressed over the last several weeks that feelings were valid and more meaningful than bland proclamations. Bianca needed to take ownership of those feelings so that she could process them and put them into the proper context.   


“Some people feel that anger is a useless emotion, but I disagree,” Sharon said quietly. “It directs you to address it, and by doing that, you can turn it into action. You resent that fact that your mother couldn’t overcome her struggle, and from what I’ve seen over the last few months, you’ve used it as a barometer for yourself. You’re determined to find a balance within yourself, Bianca. Because of that, I feel that you’ll find it. You know what you don’t want to happen, therefore you’re taking steps to assure that it won’t. Is it going to be easy? No. Is it doable? Absolutely.”  


Bianca looked away, and Sharon said her name in the same soft voice to get her attention.  


“Depression is something you have,” she said with conviction. “It’s not who you are, Bianca.”  


“I think I need to hear that, sometimes,” Bianca said, sniffling. “I want to go back to having more good days than bad.”  


“You’re working on it.”  


They talked a little more about Bianca’s mom before she turned the conversation to the second significant event that occurred since their last appointment, and Sharon kept her face neutral as Bianca told her.  


“I saw my former fiancée at the grocery store,” she said, her cheeks taking on a pale pink hue. “He was with the girl that he had the affair with.”  


“I’m sorry.”  


“He’s still with her, which is…meaningful, I guess.”  


“Meaningful, how?”  


“In that his betrayal was for a reason,” she said. “At least his affair meant something.”  


Sharon understood the comparison to her most recent boyfriend, whose cheating, along with her mom’s death was what sent her on this path to wellness in the first place. She needed to believe that the indiscretions of two men that she’d loved weren’t related, or related to her.  


“Would that make you feel better, to see that your fiancée found a long-lasting relationship with this woman?”  


“Well, wouldn’t you feel better?” she asked hotly, the glow in her cheeks increasing, and Sharon remained passive as she took a deep breath.  


“In all honesty, yes,” Sharon allowed. “But even if it soothes the pain, it doesn’t excuse his actions. His affair isn’t your fault, Bianca. No one forced him into such a deeply hurtful move.”  


“That’s not how he saw it,” she glanced down at her hands, and Sharon reached for a tissue, passing it over silently. “He felt trapped by me.”  


“Even if he did,” Sharon said, leaning over and placing her hand comfortingly on Bianca’s shoulder, “which is a copout, he was free to leave at any time. Were you forcing him to stay?”  


“No.”  


“No, you weren’t,” she affirmed. “This man knew you well enough, and from my observations, you seem to be a caring, kind person who has her heart open and vulnerable. That’s not a bad thing at all,” she added when Bianca’s head popped up. “In fact, it’s one of the things that I admire about you. There aren’t enough people like you in the world.”  


The hope in her eyes could melt even the most impartial therapist’s resolve, and Sharon gave her a heartfelt smile. Personally, she wanted nothing but good things for this young woman, who’d faced familial and personal hardships, and it was her mission to fortify Bianca’s self-esteem so that she could put herself back out there. The world would be richer for it.  


“If it’s not too difficult to discuss, did you have any actual interaction with him?”  


“We both saw each other at the same time,” she said. “He had come from one end of the aisle and I was coming from the other end. I kinda froze and he turned their buggy around, steering it back the way they came.”  


“Well, that doesn’t sound like a person that’s guilt-free about the way he handled things,” Sharon mused. "It sounds more like he was ashamed of the way he treated someone important in his life.”  


Even Bianca, with her tentative self-worth, had to acknowledge that as a truth, and they spent a few more minutes discussing how she felt after the run-in, and her hopes for dealing with it should it ever occur again.  


Sharon tried to segue into the breakup with her boyfriend, but her patient steadfastly refused to engage. It was always hit or miss in their sessions, and she gathered that the interaction with her former fiancée had been too hurtful to apply any sort of introspection on her most recent relationship. She didn’t want to push Bianca, scaling back on her questions until their time together came to a close.   


“How’s the journaling coming along?” she asked as they rose from their spots, and Bianca gave her a shy smile.   


“I think it’s helping. I’m able to write what I’m feeling in the moment and it gives me a chance to look at it objectively later on.”  


“That’s wonderful,” Sharon was genuinely pleased, walking her to the door. “I’ll see you next week?”  


“I’ll be here.”  


Bianca Cicero was so much stronger than she gave herself credit for, Sharon thought as the door shut, and she went back to her desk, making her notes in the woman’s file. Glancing up at the clock, she cracked her neck, anxious to get her final appointment done so that she could go home for the weekend. Her wife had made them reservations at a bed and breakfast in Pennsylvania, and she still had to pack a bag.  


Ten minutes before her new patient was due to arrive, she started a new file, inputting his demographic information before opening the file that had been sent over from his previous therapist, a colleague of hers that was taking a leave of absence to care for her mother.  


Sharon read through his session notes, marking a few observations as she chewed on her lip, deep in thought as she did a mental run-through of how she wanted to proceed. She was so focused on it that the knock on the door startled her, and she quickly closed the file, rising with her notepad.  


The patient was smiling when she opened the door, and she stuck out her hand in greeting.  


“I’m Sharon,” she said as he closed his fingers around hers. “Pleasure to meet you.”  


“Negan,” he answered, revealing pearly white teeth. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

* * *

  


Bianca was roused from her sleep by a warm tongue, curling into a ball as it lapped at the back of her neck.   


“Charlie, knock it off,” she mumbled, ducking her head with her eyes still closed. The tongue bath persisted, and she finally rolled onto her back, scratching the dog lazily as he moved his efforts to her cheek. “I’m gonna send you back downstairs.”  


He yipped, and she chuckled. Threats of carting his furry butt back down to Dolores never failed to produce a response, and she finally opened one eye to see him giving her an aloof look. His owner would ground him for sneaking out, even though she knew where the dog always ended up. It’s why Bianca had taken to buying a bag of food to keep in her apartment since he spent about half his time with her.   


When she had come to see the apartment four months earlier, Charlie had glommed onto her the second she stepped out of her car, looking up at the run-down Victorian with the upstairs apartment in her price range. She’d imagined some severe, white-haired battle-ax that wore black dresses and carried a crucifix, and instead, she was greeted by a woman with badly dyed brown hair, blue jeans, and an acerbic sense of humor.  


Dolores Hartville was funny as hell, and she showed Bianca straight to the apartment, guiding her up the outside flight of stairs, which was dizzying at first. The entrance had a doggy door, and the old woman warned her that Charlie came and went at leisure.  


“If you aren’t a dog person, then this just ain’t gonna work out,” she said over her shoulder, flicking on the light.   


“I like dogs,” Bianca was completely taken aback at the introduction, glancing around at the apartment. It wasn’t big, but it was surprisingly homey, with a small living room, a tiny kitchen that sat off just to the right, and two bedrooms that had a bathroom in between.   


One of the reasons that she’d called to see the place was because that it came fully furnished, and though the furniture was antique, it was well maintained.  


“I don’t care if you have people over, but for God’s sake, keep it down after eleven, all right? I need my damned beauty sleep.”  


“That won’t be a problem,” she stuttered. All she wanted to do was hide away, so the odds of having company anytime soon were astronomical.  


“Garden out back is up for grabs,” Dolores told her, “just help out around the yard is all I ask.”  


She moved in the next day, exactly one week after fleeing the condo, and that first night, laying in a strange bed in a strange place was so overwhelming that she couldn’t do anything but cry uncontrollably. She was so sad, so heartbroken that it was hard to keep breathing, knowing that the life she knew, the one she’d planned for herself was over.   


Negan had hurt her so much that she couldn’t conceive of how she’d ever be able to put herself out there ever again. Not even just romantically. She doubted she’d ever have the capacity to trust anyone. Negan hadn’t only been the man she loved, he’d been her best friend. The one she thought she could tell her deepest, darkest secrets and fears to. And he’d used her insecurities against her, weaponized them.  


Every time she thought about him kissing and touching another woman, it was like giving her soul a paper cut and rubbing salt into it. Paralyzing, and after a month of walking around in a prison of her own making, she’d reached out to find a therapist.   


Sharon Powers came highly recommended by her boss, Harold. He’d seen her himself, which came as a surprise. Harold had always been the most positive, forward-thinking person she’d ever known. He’d been one of those people that perpetually seemed to have his shit together, but it turned out that he’d gotten that way by engaging in therapy.  


Chronicling each and every painful moment and thought in her life was excruciating, almost to the point where she began to think about giving it up, but over the last three months, she was making her way out of the dense forest of depression that she’d been lost in. It felt more like she’d been trapped in an unending jungle, with just a pair of scissors to hack her way through. Slowly but surely, she’d made some headway, and Bianca could see a distant glimpse of sunlight.   


She was tentatively ready to dip her toe into the outside world.  


Charlie huffed in her face, and she finally sat up, carrying his furry little body into the kitchen, pouring him a cup of food. Some mix of terrier and beagle, he was an ugly/beautiful fellow, and she drank a cup of coffee while he ate. Once he’d gotten what he came for, he scurried back out the doggie door to go lay in the setting sun.  


After working four nights in a row at the hospital, she was off for three days, and she’d agreed to go out with Jen to see a band that night. Her friends had been so supportive after learning about her breakup. Breakup? Betrayal. Blindside.   


Whatever one would call it, they’d rallied around her so securely that it still put a lump in her throat. Crystal for one had been so pissed, that she didn’t hesitate to tell Negan off. She knew that he’d begged her to get Bianca to talk to him, and she’d shut that down definitively. She’d refused to answer any of his questions, nor would she give him Bianca’s new phone number or whereabouts.  


“Eat shit,” she’d hissed at him in the hallway each time they passed each other, and it actually put a temporary smile on Bianca’s face soon after the breakup. Once school let out of the summer, it had taken some of the pressure off of Crystal, though Bianca still worried that he’d show up at the hospital. He didn’t, though, and her fears ebbed little by little.   


As she washed out her cup, her phone dinged, and she got her rear in gear. Jen was due to pick her up in under an hour, and she jumped in the shower, standing clueless in front of her closet twenty minutes later. After inspecting every non-scrubs-related article of clothing in her wardrobe, she finally decided on a pair of black jeans, boots, and a form-fitting Jack Daniel’s t-shirt.   


Jen was taking her to a bar called Smokey Joe’s to hear Side B, a local rock and blues band. She’d never been to that particular bar before, but she knew of it, and it was more like a roadhouse than an upscale place. Since her fling with Troy fizzled out not long after the wedding, Jen had been obsessing over the lead singer of the band. She’d gone to three other shows, and she was bound and determined to land this guy.  


All Bianca wanted was a drink, to hear some good music, and a night out of her own head. Men weren’t on the menu for her, and she really didn’t know when they’d be. She was learning to find comfort in her own company, and would be for the foreseeable future.  


When she heard Jen’s tires crunching on the gravel, she grabbed her coat and purse, taking practiced steps down the walkway of death, jumping in the passenger’s side. She barely had time to buckle her seat belt before Jen put it in reverse, hauling ass down the drive.   


“I want to get there early so we can get a table up front,” she said over the radio, flicking her long, blonde hair over her shoulder.   


“Message received,” Bianca grinned. “Will I need to arrange for a ride home?”  


“I do not give it up that easily,” she baldly lied in a haughty tone. Bianca was tempted to remind her about the bathroom incident at LaVilla Rosa with the waiter, but she bit her tongue, giving her friend a placating head nod.  


Smokey Joe’s was located about twenty minutes outside of town, in an area that probably held more cows than people. Set back off the interstate, she looked on in interest as they drove up to the large building, the blinking lights welcoming them in. There were already about two dozen cars parked outside in the twilight, and Jen found a spot near the door.  


The two made their way to the door, showing their licenses to the bouncer with the tribal tattoo and slicked-back red hair. He stamped their hands, and she got her first look inside. The bar was situated smack dab in the middle of the large space, accessible on all four sides. The interior was mostly wood, all shiny and lacquered, with pictures, signs, and even a dismantled motorcycle on the walls.   


The stage was on the far right, taking up the entire wall, and simple round tables were set in a fan shape just feet away. The place had a dance floor between the tables and the bar, and booths lined the two of the other walls of the joint. All in all, it was a cool setup, and Bianca glanced around, feeling a flicker of excitement for the first time in a long while.  


One of the tables by the stage was still free, and Jen made a beeline for it, staking her claim right before a middle-aged couple in cowboy boots and hats could take it. Bianca gave them an apologetic smile, putting her jacket on one of the chairs.   


There didn’t appear to be any waitresses working, so she offered to buy the first round. The Allman Brothers were playing overhead, and she headed over to the bar, waiting for the bartender to finish up with the two young guys that were putting in an order for food.   


“What can I get you?” the woman asked in a friendly but no-nonsense tone.   


Bianca asked for two domestic beers, leaving a tip in the shot glass that was sitting by the register. . The air inside smelled like cedar and barbeque, and she set down both beers, smiling to herself as Jen gave the evil eye to three other groupies that were making a slow walk around the stage.   


“Keep walkin’, bitches,” Jen muttered. Bianca took out her phone to pass the time since Jen’s attention was elsewhere, and she checked her email, her stomach plummeting down to the floor when she saw that she had an email from Negan.   


It was the first time he’d tried to reach out to her that way, and the subject line just said ‘please’. Her mind was a blank as she stared at it, that same sickening feeling creeping up her spine as the day that she read those texts on his phone. Unable to even fathom opening it, she held the phone out to Jen, trying not to let her hands or voice shake.  


“How do I block him?” she asked helplessly. Jen first squinted at the screen, and then her eyes widened for a split second. She took the phone, punching a few buttons before handing it back and taking Bianca’s hand in hers.  


“Do you want to leave?”  


She shook her head back and forth rapidly, counting to ten in her head like she’d been doing when things got overwhelming. Part of her was thrown, and another part was angry, feeling like he was trying to sabotage her and all of the progress that she was making. He had no right to ever insert himself into her life again.   


_This is your life_ , she told herself, fiddling with the label on her beer bottle. _You determine your own happiness and self-worth. You’re stronger than him._  


Repeating it over and over as a mantra allowed her to center herself, and she took back control of her emotions. It wasn’t easy, but it was doable, and she forced herself to engage in meaningless chitchat until it wasn’t compulsory. It helped that the bar was starting to fill up, providing her with a distraction, and in between subjects she did some people watching.  


There seemed to be a diverse group of men and women who were here to see Side B. Older folks and younger mingled amongst each other. Some were rural looking, with faded jeans and work boots, and others were distinctly urban, wearing Apple watches with football jerseys.  


One such guy stood a little too close for comfort when she went back for another beer. He was slightly taller than her, donned in a Tom Brady jersey, and he nudged her shoulder as she leaned against the corner of the bar, trying to ignore him.  


“Can I buy you a drink?” he leaned over her, talking right in her ear, and she shook her head without looking at him conveying complete disinterest.   


“I’m Mike,” he continued on, either oblivious to the signals she was giving, or flat out ignoring them. “What’s your name, beautiful?”  


It was so strikingly similar to the first time she met Negan that Bianca recoiled from him, moving around the corner to the other side to wait. Mike blatantly didn’t care that she’d rather lick a stripper’s pole than talk to him. He just came right around, nudging her again. “Come on, what’s the harm in me buying a sexy girl a drink?”  


“I’m not interested,” she snapped turning away from him.   


“I just want to be friends,” he told her, pressing himself up against her back. Another fucking guy with no boundaries and an inflated ego. Bianca elbowed him in the gut, trying to ease to the side to get away from him.  


“Stuck up bitch,” he clamped his fingers around her upper arm, jerking her back to face him. Bianca tried to free herself, and before she could utter a word, Mike/Tom Brady was yanked back by the scruff of his neck.   


She hadn’t even realized that anyone was watching what was happening, but she had a savior, one that was tall and angry.   


“I warned you once already that we have a ‘no assholes’ policy,” the man said in a richly smoky voice. “The lady isn’t interested, and you fucked up, friend.”  


“I didn’t do anything,” Mike tried to wrestle himself free, but the other guy was big and strong as an ox, apparently, because all the asshole did was manage to make himself look like a fish caught on a line. He flopped and bounced, causing his jersey to ride up his stomach.  


“Excuse us, ma’am,” tall, dark and angry inclined his head, dragging the drunk asshole towards the door. She was left speechless, watching the two men melt into the crowd. The bartender tapped her on the shoulder, getting her attention.  


“You okay?”  


“Yeah,” she blinked in disbelief when the crowd swallowed both men up. The encounter had only lasted seconds, and no one else seemed to care. “Can I get two more beers?”  


Carrying them back to the table, she figured that Jen hadn’t seen what happened, because her nose was buried in her phone.   


“Some guy just got kicked out for grabbing me,” she said, nudging one of the bottles across the table.   


“Jesus, are you all right?” Jen stowed her phone back in her purse, looking Bianca over carefully.   


“Yeah, it was just so freaking similar to what happened the night I met Negan,” she couldn’t help but compare the situations, both involving drunk guys that accosted her, however briefly. “Kinda weird, right?”  


“Not really,” Jen tried to reassure her. “Women get grabbed all the time, unfortunately, sweetie. But who took care of him?”  


Twisting in her seat, Bianca scanned near the bar, spying the man behind the bar, and she pointed to him. “That’s him right there. He must be a bartender.”  


Jen laughed in her ear as she continued to study her newest hero, wondering why he looked so familiar. He was tall, with black hair that was streaked with gray. It came down to his shoulder, flowing off of his forehead in waves. His face was laced with the same salt-and-pepper combination, with masculine features that drew her eye. She knew him from somewhere. She had to.  


Over the heads of the customers, he caught her looking, giving her a wink and a smile, and she felt her face heat up, turning back around.   


“I feel like I know him from somewhere,” she said as Jen kept laughing. “What’s so funny?”  


“That’s the owner, Joe.”  


“Smokey Joe?”  


“The one and only,” Jen smiled, zoning in on her pink cheeks. “Pretty dreamy, huh?”  


“Why does he look so familiar?”  


“Honey, he’s the spitting image of Sam Elliott. Every woman within a twenty-mile radius has tried to land him at one point or another.”  


“Oh my God,” she gasped, chancing a look back, and luckily, he was pouring a drink, giving her ample opportunity to see that Jen was right. He was a dead ringer. It was almost eerie, and she quickly shifted around when he started to turn towards her. “Oh my God.”   


“I know, right?”  


Bianca was totally at a loss on how to process this. She felt like she should thank him, but the thought of actually getting up and walking over there was daunting. She was afraid she’d get all tongue-tied and weird, so she settled for chugging her beer as Jen chuckled knowingly.   


Thank God the band came out a few minutes later, and she zoned out, listening to them play with half an ear. Jen was too engrossed to notice that Bianca was out of commission, and she almost felt giddy, not because she was happy, but because she actually had a favorable reaction to someone of the opposite sex. It was something she didn’t think would ever happen again.   


Halfway through the set, she got up to head to the bathroom, weaving through the packed crowd. Joe was still behind the bar, and she tried to move as far away from him as humanly possible, joining the line of women that were waiting to use the facilities.   


Three songs later, she finally got her turn, and she washed her hands when she was done, looking at herself in the mirror. For once, she was actually happy with what she saw. Her eyes were clear, her hair still had some body to it, and her face had color. She didn’t look like a walking corpse.   
  
Best of all, she hadn’t let Negan’s attempt to contact her ruin her night. Other than the initial shock of seeing it, she didn’t let it dominate her thoughts. It may bother her in the morning. Hell, it most likely would bother her at some point. But she didn’t let it bother her now, and it was a crucial victory that made her proud.  


When she opened the door, the next in line edged around her to get in, and she made her way slowly back to the heart of the bar, both relieved and disappointed to see that Joe wasn’t anywhere to be found. She felt a twinge of guilt for not thanking him for coming to her rescue, but just short of asking someone who worked there where he was, it was too late.   


Squeezing her way back to her table, she came to a stop when she saw Jen waiting for her with wide eyes and a freaky smile.  


“What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked over the music, and Jen forcefully pulled her down into her seat, making her jam her elbow on the table. “Ow.”  


“Joe was looking for you,” she practically squealed. “He wanted to make sure that you were all right.”  


Was it wrong that she felt a rush of pleasure that he had asked about her? She didn’t know, and she didn’t have time to ponder it because Jen stuffed a card in her hand, and she turned it over to see that it was his.  


Written in black ink was a note, and she ducked her head as she grinned.  


_**“Hope that asshole won’t keep you from coming back. Next time, drinks are on me.”**_  


Underneath was his phone number, and Bianca felt her heart stir for the first time in months. Maybe she would be okay after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there was ever a guy that could heal Bianca's broken heart, it would be a dude that looks like prime Sam Elliott. I'm not one that posts pictures, but for reference to see what deliciousness I'm referring to, see below.
> 
> https://tenor.com/view/sam-dalton-fix-hair-handsome-hot-gif-15959971


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